Unexpected Transitions: When Life Throws Us a Curve Ball
Happy Birthday Whispers of Wisdom®. Today is your third anniversary of being launched! Wow… the time has gone quickly. When I wrote my first post in 2014, I was approaching the third anniversary of Roy’s death and thought I had “come through the grief” – which in a certain way I had. However, adding on another three years has taught me that this journey never truly ends. When we lose our life partner, we are faced with a choice: Stay paralyzed by the grief or become the author of our new life, which is what I chose to do. In my marriage, I had a different relationship with myself. My late husband and I shared responsibilities for one another – we had each other’s backs, we supported each other’s dreams, and we immersed ourselves in attaining our dreams. I was not 100% responsible for all the tasks of daily life – I could talk things over with Roy and get a great second opinion. We shared the joys and sorrows of life – we watched the world events and discussed them. We faced the world with two hearts, four eyes, and an incredible bond of loyalty to one another.
What do I know now that I didn’t know three years ago? Being single at 64 years of age is hard, often lonely, and yet as I become more and more accustomed to the aloneness, I find freedom. I have recognized that overcoming this horrible trauma and pain has led me to a new awareness of freedom. There is not much else that can stop me now that I have “digested” the reality of Roy’s death. In the aftermath of that life changing event, I was forced to fight for my life, to create new dreams, and in the process have cultivated a new sense of myself that unfolds regularly. I have become more compassionate, more understanding, I speak out against injustice, and support those who are suffering. I don’t tolerate a great deal of BS yet I am learning to widen the aperture of accepting others’ mishigas. I have created a very powerful relationship with myself and I have grown to like my company.
During the past three years, I have enjoyed dating some wonderful men. Each of them has been a valuable contribution to my life. Not too surprisingly, as I got “close” to them, I also pulled back – maintaining a comfortable distance and protecting myself from getting too close and being too vulnerable. The fear of grief has kept me from following the call of love for another man – instead I have been pulled towards self-love. Without knowing, loving and caring for myself in the aftermath of what was traumatic for me, how can I truly let someone get close to me – who is the “me” that is being experienced by others? And now I recognize that this has been the work of the past three years – grappling with becoming the author of my life without the additional responsibility of creating a serious connection with a man.
So as 2017 meanders along, I continue to stay busy with teaching, being of service, meeting men, spending time with my friends, and hanging out with myself and my cats. When I first began grief therapy soon after Roy’s death, I told my grief counselor that it would take seven years for me to heal. I will enter the seventh year in July 2017. I believe this is the year that I may meet someone. I realize that to hold back from loving and being loved because of the reality of grief would be similar to preventing a child from learning to walk because of the risk of falling. We do fall and we do get up again. That is my hope! I’ll keep you posted.
Part of the journey of life requires developing a strong mental muscle that allows us to step back from a situation, talking to ourselves in a strong and loving way about what is happening, and to ultimately not react from a young and impulsive state of mind. We have seen little kids screaming, crying, and just a bundle of emotions – they have not developed the mental muscle I am referring to in this post. Here’s the not so good news: we adults still react from a very young part of our minds when confronted by challenging situations. Hence the high rates of impulsive drinking, eating, and buying behaviors we observe In ourselves and our friends.
In her book 
I had a meltdown yesterday and it is only December 2! After an intense session with my analyst, I returned home, ate lunch, and felt exhausted. I took a 2 1/2 hour nap with my cats and woke up feeling tired. Then I spotted the familiar red wrapped boxes in my kitchen. The day before I bought several boxes of See’s candy to give to various people. I didn’t think twice – I ripped open one of the boxes and proceeded to eat 7 pieces of candy. I then made coffee and was able to work for a few hours from the mixture of sugar and caffeine. I felt no guilt. So what was the emotional trigger? I confronted yet again the reality that I miss Roy and our holiday traditions and I am not in a serious love relationship yet (by my own choice). I feel alone.
week I decorated my place with our decorations, as well as those of my mother’s that I have. Now she and Roy are both dead – just writing that four letter word “dead” feels sad and heavy. I started playing holiday music on Thanksgiving eve – an annual tradition I started with Roy several years ago. The tradition was a fun and humorous point of contention between us because Roy didn’t really like listening to holiday music all day, every day, for 30 days. So now when I hear the music I reflect on how much I miss his sarcasm about the music and yet, I still love listening to it. I am grateful that I can listen to it again and that I decorated for the holidays.
For the past year and a half I have had a chronic need to scratch the top of my head. This is a recurring condition that surfaces when I am under stress. As a result of the scratching, I have a bald spot at the top of my head in the crown chakra area. The crown chakra, Sahasrara in the Hindu tradition, is associated with one’s relationship to the eternal, a higher power, or God. Health issues associated with the crown chakra include nervousness and skin disorders. When I am nervous, anxious, bored, daydreaming, or driving my hand will make its way up to the spot. I feel soothed while I scratch this spot – similar to how one feels while biting her nails. I want this to stop but have not found the correct modality for stopping the itch. I know I am itching to soothe something – the continuing anxiety that has accompanied me since Roy’s death. Or maybe I itch to soothe the anger and rage that I feel about the unfairness of life. Or perhaps my spiritual life is demanding more attention.
I will continue to work with my cranial sacral practitioner. I already have a better understanding about the mind-body-spiritual connection. On many conscious levels all is well in my world. I think this regularly and proceed “full steam ahead”. The top of my head however is saying “Pay Attention … Go slowly … Something is bubbling to the surface”. I am learning to manage this nervous scratching/soothing habit by talking to the top of my head … Asking questions like “what do you want to tell me”. Then I sit and reflect while looking out at the ocean from my terrace. I am calmed by the eternal nature of the ocean and am connecting to my understanding of the Divine. The journey of grief waxes and wanes – my body and spirit know this in many ways that my mind does not.
The greatest joy in my life is when I am sitting at my small, round, wood-top table looking out at the ocean – my feet propped up on the chair and my body calm. These moments, minutes and oftentimes hours of being right here is a slice of heaven on earth. Often my cats join me for the quiet solitude that is brought to us through the sounds of the crushing waves, the passing by of a school of dolphins, and the swarms of pelicans that swoop by the plate glass window.
When I sit in my chair with my freshly brewed coffee, prop my feet up and gaze at the magnificent Pacific Ocean, I am in the presence of the Divine. Since Roy’s death, I have come to depend on this ritual of welcoming the vast ocean into my day. Thank you, Gaia, for being here to support me and to remind me that Roy’s spirit is right here with me.
I believe that it is imperative that the reality of death needs to sit on our left shoulder 24-7 like a squawking black raven. This raven serves as an unrelenting reminder that we need to seize the moments of our lives with gusto and perseverance. If someone you love died recently or years ago and you have not adequately grieved the loss, the pain of the death will rob you of life, joy, and hope for the future. You must do the foot work of grief. It is painful, hard, and lonely … and people have been doing it since the beginning of time. Irish poet John O’Donohue states in his poem For Grief that when you lose someone you love, your life becomes strange. Yes indeed it does. However, at the end of the crippling journey of grief there is a moment when you realize you have finished the hardest part of the journey back to life. You notice that spring is back, that the air smells delicious, and that people are commenting that they notice a sparkle in your eye again. It is a heavy price to pay for recognizing that life is incredible. But this recognition is awaiting each of us when grief has been completed. I encourage you to grab it when it arrives and don’t let go. You deserve to feel that incredible sense of being alive … again.